


Grasping at Straws

by borlaaq



Series: This Slow Devour [6]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borlaaq/pseuds/borlaaq
Summary: You are both in rather deep into the intrigues of London. This is a dangerous game. Neither of you can afford to let your facade drop. You can’t implicate the other in these schemes.or: a bag a legend player meets a light fingers player
Series: This Slow Devour [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697740
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Grasping at Straws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleMissLiesmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissLiesmith/gifts).



_ These monsters linger inside me, trying to escape my head. _

—

Fires requests you to work for it often. As Fist of the Bazaar you help whatever Master needs you and Fires… likes you. You are strong, know the docks, and a Londoner. It is no surprise when it requests your presence.

But you are exhausted. You don’t want to leave Veils alone. It is still weak, barely waking every so often. Apples says it will watch Veils and you trust it. You can’t let any of the other Masters know your plans. 

(The sixth candle sits heavy on our windowsill. One more. One more. One more.)

You get your assignment: you just need to escort someone to one of Fires’ warehouses. Easy.

—

You think perhaps Fires realizes it was you that night in its warehouse and not Veils. This is punishment.

—

You are standing at the Docks waiting for your target. It’s a quiet night and you watch the ships with idle interest. You don’t hear footsteps, but rather the groan of one of the planks behind you. You know that exact plank. It always groans. It's why you picked this place to stand. Even the most stealthy wouldn’t be able to avoid it unless they know the Docks like you do.

You turn, head tilted. You are the Fist of the Bazaar and this is your job. But your expression falters briefly. You nearly say her name. 

Before you stands your friend. You can’t see her eyes behind her Cosmogone spectacles. You are both in rather deep into the intrigues of London. This is a dangerous game. Neither of you can afford to let your facade drop. You can’t implicate the other in these schemes. You almost don’t even want to know. Is Fires going to kill her? Try and hire her?

(You damned her.)

You nod to her, not trusting your voice yet, and put a hand to her back to guide her. The hand with your brass knuckles. “Mr Fires will meet you this way.” You tell her, glad your voice doesn’t tremble. 

She doesn’t flinch at your touch, doesn’t even look at you. You are thankful for that, anything else and you may have broken, may have told her everything. You show her down the back alleyways until you come to a door. This is not a warehouse you know, but it's where Fires had told you to bring her. The two of you wait in tense silence. You know Fires is watching. Is it waiting for one of you to slip up? 

(Lead her up the stairs to her murderer. Won't she look good at the bottom of a well?)

You wish Eaten would _ shut the fuck up _ . He’s been so talkative since the Vake. Your head hurts.

(No. Not until you knock.)

Then Fires emerges from the shadows. “I believe you have something of mine.” It addresses the Formerly Soulless Philanthropist. You keep your eyes lowered, standing straight and at attention. Then Fires glances at you. “Good work, lad.”

You don't want to know, you tell yourself.

It unlocks the door and Fires and your friend disappear into the darkness within the warehouse. The sound of the door slamming behind them is deafening. 

—

_ They said all along:  _ _  
_ _ The world was a storm, _

_ That all the passion was forced inside me. _

—

You pace. 

Fires hadn’t told you to stick around, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. It feels like eternity but you haven’t heard the House of Chimes toll so you know it hasn’t been as long as you fear.

And so you pace.

You are anxious, about ready to start a fight with the next passerby you come across. You take to rubbing the fabric of the bow around your neck to try and distract yourself. It reminds you of Veils and it reminds you how close you came to losing it.

— You stop touching the silk and dig your nails into your palms. You count to seven as you breathe. 

(You used to count to five but everything is seven now, isn't it?)

Then you smell the smoke. 

(You knew you would lose everyone. Why do you care now?)

Dread sets in. You try and convince yourself it's all in your head but you're already running towards the door. You nearly trip as you dash back down the alley. The smell is stronger here, just like you feared. Had Anna attacked Fires? Had Fires attacked  _ Anna _ ? You stand there, frozen. 

(How does betrayal taste? Do you know how the Vake felt now?)

The door swings open just as you take a step forward to turn the knob yourself. Fires has a hand on Anna's shoulder. It looks smug. "Wines won't be happy!" It practically chirps. "Not happy at all!" It chuckles, locking the door and ignoring the smoke that escapes.

You can't help it. You blurt out: "What the  _ fuck _ happened!? Are you hurt?"

"We're both fine, Fist. Calm yourself." Fires looks down at you but something in its voice is soft. Like it is trying to calm a scared animal. Anna gives you a look that says 'I'll explain later' and 'good luck' before hurrying away. 

It is only after she's gone do you realize you are shaking. Your breath comes in harsh gasps, like you can't breathe. 

(Ah, and this is what it is like to drown.)

Memories that aren't yours attempt to blot out your vision.

Fires takes you by the shoulder and it shakes you from Eaten's grip. You lean into the touch and Fires leads you away from the smoke. You fist your hands into the fabric of its robes. 

"We're alright," it repeats, softer this time. You are panicking, having a meltdown in front of your employer, and it doesn't take long for the shaking and gasps to turn to sobs. 

The streets are too loud. The lights are too bright. The fabric of Fires robes feels like glass in your hands. And the smoke. It burns your eyes and your nose. Your senses are suddenly too strong and everything is too much.

You can't lose anyone else.

(You sound like Candles. Don't be naive.)

Fires ushers you into one of its offices by the docks, where it smells of saltwater. It kneels then and you can't help but bury your face into its neck, arms tightening around it. You desperately seek out fur. It doesn’t feel like Veils. You wince. 

"I-I-I'm sorry," you stammer, but you feel its claws wrap around you as well. It's quieter here. Dark and calm. 

"How… does Veils usually deal with this?" Fires asks. "I assume you are… overwhelmed?" 

You nod, trying to stop hyperventilating long enough to explain. "W-weight helps. Veils s-squeezes me with its wings." Fires hesitates and you know you've probably overstepped a boundary. You let go, stepping back. "I-I should go." You mumble. 

Fires grabs your wrist, tugging you back to its chest and tightening its arms around your body. You make a noise of surprise but then relax into the pressure.

"I'm sorry, little one." It whispers. "I know you've dealt with a lot. I didn't mean to scare you." 

"Don't want to lose anyone else." You reply weakly.

It doesn't reply, just tightens its embrace. You sigh. After a few moments of silence, you catch your breath and your shaking stops. Fires fur is soft but its robes are horribly scratchy, made out of coarse hessian. 

"Your robes feel gross." You grumble, pushing against Fires’ chest. 

It chuckles softly, releasing you. "Veils isn't in a state to help you, am I right?"

You flinch. You don't want to answer, glaring. You don't know if you can trust Fires. It notices your discomfort and shakes its head. 

"If my plan works, Veils will be free and I'll have London. We'll all win. Veils isn't my enemy, no. It's a friend, still. I know it will kill me if I stand in the way of its freedom, but my plan gets rid of that." A pause. "We all get what we want. It's the best of both worlds. Well… except for those who want the Bazaar to succeed." Wines’ name goes unsaid. You feel bad for it. For the Bazaar. You aren't sure if those are your feelings or Candles’.

You wonder if Fires knows what you want, then.

"How do you expect Veils to get home?" You ask.

Fires, in response, taps its claw seven times. "I can't stop you," it laments. 

—

"Would you like to hold it?" She asks, and you blink. You've never held a baby before. You never considered you as someone who should be allowed near children. You are all muscle and scars, blunt and rude. People don't like you around their babies. 

Anna doesn't seem to see you that way and you wonder, then, how she sees you if not a monster. 

You nod, though, because you think she's expecting you to. She hands you the bundle, showing you how to position your arms. 

— something in you coos to it and the sound leaves your throat.

"Are you alright?" She asks. 

"What? Yeah, of course." And it's only after you finish speaking do you realize you are crying.

Runts can't have children. 

—

_ You were that voice inside my head: _

_ "Be braver, be bolder." _


End file.
